


A Complex Illusion of Illumination

by bellamythology (onemanbellarmy)



Series: Bellarke AU Week 2016 [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Book/Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bellarke AU Week, F/M, Fusion - The Night Circus, Magic-Users, magician!bellamy, magician!octavia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemanbellarmy/pseuds/bellamythology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy and a girl — him in all black, her in all white (were they twins? Clarke wondered. They looked close enough in age to be) — stood several feet apart, black and white kittens seemingly effortlessly passing from one to the other, leaping through silver hoops, executing flips and somersaults with surprising grace.</p><p>The boy turned. Brown eyes met blue, and his slight nod told her all she needed to know.</p><p>It was him, and he remembered her.</p><p>(Bellarke AU Week Day 5: Magic AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Complex Illusion of Illumination

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still mad at Octavia, and apparently at Marie too - too tired of this crap to look into it even enough to confirm, but anyway. Bellamy deserves to be happy and his sister is part of that happiness (and the fusion I've created), so that's what you're getting here.
> 
> Title from the book by Erin Morgenstern.

“I dare you to break into the circus. Bring something back as proof.” Finn smirked, certain that she’d never do it.

“Clarke —” Wells started, but she was already scrambling down from the tree.

 

There was something much less mystical about the tents in the daylight; perhaps that was why it was only at night.

It wasn’t hard, really — the surrounding fence looked big and intimidating, but clearly it hadn’t been built to keep out small twelve-year-old girls; Clarke easily slipped between the bars. The real problem was finding something to bring back — all the tents were sealed, and the only things around were empty popcorn boxes and used cups littering the paths.

“You shouldn’t be here.” A boy about her own age was watching her, big brown eyes wary under the dark curls that peeked out from under his black hat. He tugged at the color of his black blazer with a black-gloved hand, fidgeting. “Can’t you read the signs? _Trespassers will be exsanguinated._   That means —”

“Draining all your blood. I know,” Clarke interrupted impatiently. _Isn’t he boiling, in that suit?_ “It’s for a dare — I’m supposed to bring something back.”

The boy considered this, then suddenly smiled, bright and warm. Reaching out, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then took off his hat to settle it on her head. “There you go.”

“Are you —” She hesitated, one hand on the brim. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve got a trunk full of them,” the boy said. (For the life of her, Clarke couldn’t tell if he was joking.) “Be careful on your way out, Clarke. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

When she looked back after climbing through the bars again, he was already gone.

How had he known her name?

 

_Four years later_

Bellamy suddenly became aware that his sister was saying his name, and had been for a while. “What, O?”

“There’s a girl,” she whispered, eyes seeing something he wouldn’t for days, or weeks, or months, or perhaps ever.

“The circus is open, there’s lots of girls.” He paused to watch one pass by, gaze appreciative.

The brunette didn’t notice him, of course; they never did. Whether this was because they were half-hidden behind a tree or because his dark hair helped him blend into the circus’s strict color theme, well, he preferred not to guess.

(He knew, actually. Lexa was giving him and his sister lessons in the things she did — they weren’t supposed to call it _magic_ anymore — and so Bellamy was beginning to recognize all the work that went into creating a “backstage” that audiences would never pay attention to. And he was starting to appreciate it, too — kind of hard not to, when the circus was basically all he had ever known.)

“Gross, Bell.” Back in the present, Octavia swatted his arm with her free hand, then held out her cup of cooled cocoa. (The third of many to come — while circus patrons tended not to recognize the Blake twins out of costume and/or without their kittens, the vendors always did.) “She’s going to be important, you know — the girl I saw. But in the meantime, if you really need something to do…”

He made a face, but took it from her hand. A few moments later, a tendril of smoke curled from the cup and he offered it back to her, satisfied.

Octavia grinned, hands tucked between her back and the tree they were leaning against. The cup floated through the air, so steadily level that it might have been sliding across a table, until it reached her. Only then did she reach for it, lifting it to her nose to inhale deeply.

“Show off,” Bellamy said, affectionate.

She only shrugged. “Tell me a story, Bell. Any story.”

Her brother considered the contents of his own cup until they too warmed up. “Once there was a wizard who was trapped in a tree…”

 

Clarke let the screen door slam behind her in lieu of replying to her mother. After all, she had nothing to say that her mother hadn’t already dismissed. She wanted neither a university education nor a husband; why was it so imperative that she choose one or the other?

In her anger, she didn’t notice where she was headed until she nearly walked right into a low-hanging branch.

Her scowl softened as she swung herself up into her tree, climbing up higher, higher, higher than her father had ever seen, than her mother would ever approve of. (“Screw ladylike,” Clarke thought, vindictively pleased with the dirt on her palms.)

When she reached the comfortable perch she’d discovered last week, she spared a minute to sigh, fixing her gaze on the horizon to calm herself. It took all too long for her realize what she was seeing — once she finally did, her heart rate picked up again, but for utterly different reasons.

The circus was back.

 

As she wandered the looping paths, Clarke couldn’t help wondering if she’d see him here. It had been years, and the circus had gained a few tents, but her memory of the boy bore an air of constancy about him — surely he was still here?

Even thus preoccupied, she found herself just as enthralled by the black-and-white tents and mouth-watering scents as the first time she’d been allowed to explore them.

The tent was not as large or showy as many around it, but Clarke found herself joining the queue to see _Feats of Illustrious Illusion_.

Once both rows of seats were filled, the entrance to the tent seemed to disappear. At the same time, a large black bird cawed and flapped its wings, leaving its perch on the chair in the middle of the ring. It gained height quickly, then circled the tent a few times before diving at the audience.

Some shrieked. Some tried to flee. Clarke was frozen to her seat, fascinated.

A dark-haired young woman — hardly more than a girl, hardly older than Clarke herself, really — rose from her seat calmly, arms relaxed at her sides. If the elegant lace-trimmed black gown she wore had pockets, her hands would have been in them.

Somehow the raven disappeared, and suddenly the woman was wearing a simple top hat. She winked, then executed a graceful turn, somehow ending up lounging in the chair her bird had vacated.

The illusionist was present and ready to begin.

 

As Clarke sipped her cider, mulling over the illusions she’d just seen, she heard clapping and strolled over to investigate. With the spectators so focused on whatever they were watching, it was easy to nudge and squeeze her way to the front, where she gained an unobstructed view.

A boy and a girl — him in all black, her in all white ( _were they twins?_ Clarke wondered. They looked close enough in age to be) — stood several feet apart, black and white kittens seemingly effortlessly passing from one to the other, leaping through silver hoops, executing flips and somersaults with surprising grace.

The boy turned. Brown eyes met blue, and his slight nod told her all she needed to know.

It was him, and he remembered her.

 

As the crowd thinned afterwards, Clarke turned and found the boy standing just behind her, wearing a faded brown jacket, a bright red beanie, and a crooked smile.

“Hi, Clarke.”

It was impossible not to smile back. “Hello. I didn’t catch your name, last time.”

The girl nudged him, smirking, but he ignored her. “Sorry, I forget that we were never properly introduced. I’m Bellamy. This is my sister, Octavia.”

Octavia’s eyes widened slightly. “Bell, it’s _her._ ”

Clarke frowned, feeling as though she’d missed something. “Sorry?” She thought she’d remember Octavia if they’d ever met — even beyond her more-than-passing resemblance to her brother, the girl was lovely in a way none of Clarke’s acquaintances were.

Fortunately, the cryptic remark was not lost on Bellamy, who merely shrugged. “Want to walk with us, Clarke?”

“We hardly ever have company,” Octavia added after a pointed glare from her brother. “It’ll be fun!”

Clarke’s smile widened. “Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to [me](http://bellamythology.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
